


Gratis

by PSIDontKnow



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Don't Read This, Gen, Gratuitous bullshit, I wrote this in a sleepless fit, hinted ryokira, mostly because I realized an OC fit something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PSIDontKnow/pseuds/PSIDontKnow
Summary: Satan wonders, if they had succeeded, would they and Akira have grown lonely, if they would have fashioned something like this from bones and feathers to be their heir, something with Akira’s eyes and their mouth, their jawline and Akira’s brow.





	Gratis

     The end of the world feels like it should be something deep. Poetic justice and not the rancid smell of burning corpses and food gone bad. They'd always known it wouldn't be the beautiful end that movies and games talked about, when they were the Morning Star, when he was Ryo, and now as Satan. Still, something about it is too sad for them, something about it would bring tears to Akira’s eyes.

     But Akira’s eyes no longer water for the pain and misery of others, instead staring blankly at the ruined sky. Satan cries for him instead, leaning over him and letting their tears drip onto Akira’s face and down, as of they're the fallen Devilman's tears instead of their own. Still, glassy brown eyes do not cry and they thinks almost ardently about how eyes are the first to rot, wonders about plucking them out and eating them like grapes so that Akira can finally see inside them. They don't want to defile Akira’s body anymore than they already had though, leaves the eyes inside the skull to rot and stare ahead without seeing. They know their Father will come soon, but, until then, they will rest with Akira. They'll pillow their head on his chest and ignore the smell of rot until there is nothing left. 

.....

     What wakes them next is not the angels coming but the feeling of hair not their own. Power that fizzles and pops in the air around them, entwined with the ever moving cloud of hair, and they know who it is without looking. 

     "Luci, dearest morning star. What are you doing here with your broken boy? Waiting for daddy to come pick you up from daycare?" The voice is multilayered, rasping yet smooth, crooning out the mocking nonsense, and Satan doesn't bother to give this devil-adjacent any acknowledgement. They lean over them further though, long arms wrapping both fallen angel and fallen devil in their arms.

     "Don't be like that. You know how it ends, the same as it always does. I'm sorry for your boy though, we know how it is." They don't doubt that they do, this nameless creature watches things fall with too much glee to have not fallen themself. Still, Satan wrenches away from them, from their thin arms and ever moving cloud of hair, Akira clutched to their chest as if they could protect him from this strange deity and their cruel words. 

     "What have you come here for? Don't you have your own reality?" Satan's voice is sharp, low. Not angry but the cold callousness of a sharp blade. It's the most they've sounded like Akira’s “Ryo” since they'd awoken. The other doesn't rise to the bait though, still crouched next to them, smiling that shark toothed grin and clutching to their red topped staff.

     (They’ve felt the power that comes from it, wonders if they stole the power from another reality, then maybe they could truly succeed. They dare not try it, both for knowing how their father wouldn't even play at their game anymore and that they want to do this on his own power for nothing more than misplaced pride.)

     "Luci-Goosey, Ryo baby, of course I do. I have troubles of my own though too. I wanted to offer you something, since they reminded me of you. A gift for your ruined world. " They hold their free hand out, a shining ball forming above the palm, Satan's own reflection soon replaced with another's.

     "I'll give them to you if you promise to keep them out of my home, they look so like you after all." Their breath catches in their throat at the sight of the angel, so different and yet the same as their siblings. Six large feathered wings that sprout from their back only, unruly waves and curls, the colour of new bark curling around a soft face. What stuns them though is their eyes, soft and dark, shining with unshed tears, so much like their dear crybaby. Satan wonders, if they had succeeded, would they and Akira have grown lonely, if they would have fashioned something like this from bones and feathers to be their heir, something with Akira’s eyes and their mouth, their jawline and Akira’s brow. Satan doesn't even realized that they've reached a hand out to gently touch the image until the other creature laughs at them.

     "That a yes then, yeah? You gonna keep the little usurper out of my home and teach them to go against me in the same failed way you go against your daddy?" They laugh, all sharp teeth and mocking intensity that has Satan pulling their hand back and sneering at them. The callous words hurt, remind them of being cast out, and there's a voice that sounds startlingly like Akira in their mind.

     'Protect them the way no one protected you.'

     Satan straightens up as far as they can, lips curled in a snarl as two sets of wings curl tighter around Akira's body while the others flair out around them, as close to a threat as they can get when they’re still pathetically curled around a corpse. The nameless deity only laughs harder at that, straightening up to their full height and tapping their staff against the ground. Once, twice, thrice.

    “Awwww, I hit a nerve. It’s okay buggy boo. I’ll give you the little rat and be on my way. Have fun with them until Daddy comes!” They manage to disappear a split second before Satan can fry them to death, smite them as best they can. There’s a small thump behind them, the noise of ruffling feathers, and they turn to look at the creature they’d accidentally accepted. They’re much the same as the image had been, though now their wings are grey, the front of their coat dirtied. They’re also unbearably small, maybe the same age the Makimura child had been. Maybe even younger, face round with youth and Satan is once again struck with the comparrison to Akira, especially as the child’s eyes drift to him in their arms, tears welling up. Instead of moving, running away like most human children, this strange little not angel shuffles closer on their knees, haltingly reaching for Akira as fat tears roll down their face. Their hands stop, barred from touching their beloved by Satan’s own glimmering wings. A shuddering breath, and then big eyes are staring at theirs, a dark blue to rival the night sky.

    “You killed him.” Its not question, it’s not accusation, it’s a fact, and the child’s small voice speaking the truth make tears well in their own eyes.

    “Yes.” They move their wings, just enough for the child to reach Akira’s face, to place small hands on their Devilman’s cold flesh. The tears keep flowing from the child, their voice becoming thick with them.

    “You love him.” Present tense, and Satan stiffens. Did he love Akira? Do they love Akira?

    “Love doesn’t exist, not really.” They don’t believe the words, and neither does the child, giving them a judgemental sniffle as they lean closer to both Satan and Akira.

    “He loved you. He loved a lot. He loved you, but - he loved humanity more.” Satan bristles at the child’s words, wings fluffing out in anger. It was true, Akira loved them more, stupid humanity, humans that would hurt and kill him for trying to save them -

     “He died wanting you to love them too.” The child’s eyes glow golden as they bend their head to Akira’s cold one, more tears dripping onto the dead skin. 

     “I - ”

     “I can’t - I can’t bring him back either, I’m sorry, but he loved you and it hurt that you caused everything he loved to be killed too. He - he just wanted you to lov- ve them too - oo.” The child’s shoulders shake as their words are disrupted by hiccups, their quiet tears becoming sobs, soft hands gently squeezing Akira’s face before they look up and take Satan’s face in hand. It’s shocking, that this little not - angel would bring back Akira if they could, that they’d do that for someone. Their heart is of the same softness as Akira’s and they find themself wishing that he’d been able to meet them.

     “You’re crying too.”

     “Yes…. Yes I am.” They don’t deny the tears running down their face, over the child’s cold fingers, and Satan is rewarded with a smile, small and lopsided, but so like Akira’s that it makes their heart ache.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was some bullshit but dammit D/Polaris looks like a Ryokira lovechild after they became a deity  
> My dumb ass wants to write an AU where they help Satan fix it
> 
> [Nameless Deity (Forgi) ](https://twitter.com/PSIDontKnow/status/959170360028598273?s=19)
> 
>  
> 
> [Polaris/D ](https://twitter.com/PSIDontKnow/status/952359377385807873?s=19)


End file.
